Invictus
by Dragonsgirl16
Summary: The Mad King rules and where madness dwells, chaos thrives and darkness moves. The Dark Lord begins to make his play for the Iron Throne, with terrible dark magic at his disposal, the only one that can stand in his way is Titania, a young girl gifted in Old Magic and destined for greatness. But is she willing to play the deadly game of thrones? Femharry
1. Prologue

A/N: A new story, this time crossing into the realm of Westeros, I've tried very hard on this story and trying to incorporate two worlds together is very hard. I can only hope it pays off and is believable.

The prologue is of Aerys' pov, and hopefully sets the scene a little and gives a leeway into the story and type of world I am creating.

Enjoy~

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King Aerys II Targaryen was once a handsome man, he had the traits of his house, the beautiful silver hair and the haunting purple eyes, he was strong and he was a good ruler. At first.

No one could pinpoint the exact moment of his decline into madness, perhaps it was his capture at Duskendale, or it might have been all the stillbirths and miscarriages his sister-wife suffered. They say whenever a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin, on one side lay madness and the other lay greatness, and the world can only watch with bated breath as it lands. The gods are cruel indeed. All the realm knew was that King Aerys was mad and a propensity for burning people, no matter the crime, and his suspicion of treachery knew no bounds. His sister-wife received the brunt of his madness, he often sought her out after a burning, aroused and dangerous. He would hit her and bite her as he savagely took her, uncaring of whether he would hurt her. She was nothing to him. She had borne him another child, this one hadn't died, a boy who was named Viserys and Tywin Lannister had used the event to stage a tourney. Though Aerys had known why Tywin held the tourney and he was proved right when the subject of a betrothal between his first born and Tywin's daughter.

His eldest and heir Rhaegar had just reached ten and seven then, he didn't give the boy much thought and let him do as he pleased so long as it didn't disgrace him. He loved Rhaegar about as much as he loved his sister-wife – not very much. But that did not mean he would allow his son to marry Tywin's girl when he was approached about a betrothal. His son was the crown prince and Tywin was no more than a _servant_. No matter how much the girl claimed to love the prince and the tears she had shed when she found out about his denial of the match.

He had loved once.

A beautiful maiden from Volantis with fire kissed hair and the brightest green eyes he had ever seen, he had only been four and ten at the time, but the fire maiden had captured his heart and had never released it. She was named Lilianna, Lily he remembered she liked to be called, a beautiful flower to be sure and it suited her well. They had spent a month together, stealing kisses and making pledges of forever in the shaded areas of the hot city, but then he had been called back to his father's side and forced to marry his sister. It was not a happy wedding. Rhaella had loved another man as he had loved Lily and perhaps that was why he shunned her and loathed her so, for if she had never been born then he would have been free to marry Lily.

News of Lily's marriage reached him a few years into his own marriage and that was the first time he had ever burned a man, she had married another of Old Valyrian blood, James Gryffindor, and as he watched the green flames savagely eat the man he felt the pain in his heart dull for just a little while. When he took Rhaella that night, for just a brief moment it was Lily beneath him and he was tender, but then Rhaella's purple gaze found his mind's eye and he loathed his sister once more. When he received news that Lily had been gifted with a daughter, a beautiful child with silver and black tresses and with magical eyes, _her mother's eyes, but they hold such haunting power_ Varys had told him and it was then Aerys began to take a better interest in his then five year old son. Rhaegar liked his books, a luxury that he cursed Rhealla for, but he was a good heir a fine match for girl with Old Magic.

But then news of Lily's death reached his ears and he forgot all about plans of betrothal, he didn't even remember the child of Lily existed, he let himself drown in the grief of his lost love. That was the moment he sank into his madness and welcomed it with open arms.

Rhaegar had been married to a princess, Elia Martell of Dorne, it had been Rhaella's suggestion and what a mistake that had been. The girl was useless. Sure she was pretty to look at but that was her only redeeming quality, like many of Dorne, she was rather loose with her affections and mannerisms but she was sickly and frail. She was no maiden when his son had lain with her. After the birth of his granddaughter – who took after her mother far too much to ever be considered Targaryen – she had eventually succumbed to terrible illness and was left barren. It was the last time he listened to his wife's suggestions.

The news of the latest tourney reached him, it was to be held at Harrenhal in honour of Lord Walter Whent's maiden daughter's name day. Naturally he was invited to go, he knew his son would be in attendance, but Aerys had not made a public appearance in quite a long time. He held no interest in tourneys nor in his people. He had half a mind to decline the invitation, his son would represent House Targaryen, what need was there for him to go?

"Titania will be in attendance no doubt your grace," Varys whispered coyly at his side.

"Who?" Aerys asked, what should he care about some insignificant faceless girl?

"The daughter of the late Lady Lilianna," Varys responded with a careless ease, "it seems House Gryffindor was great friends with House Stark, Lady Titania was given into their care when she was ten and has remained with the Starks since. She is one and five now your grace and, my birds tell me, she has inherited the strange powers of her house."

His sweet Lily's daughter, the one with the Old Magic, he recalled when he was told of the birth of the strange child. She was blood of Old Valyria and would've been a far worthier bride for his son than the Dornish whore. Perhaps he would attend the tourney after all, if only to see the child of the woman his heart still belonged to, even after her death.

"My son shall have his dear Lily," Aerys told Varys who listened with a quiet ear, "the blood will remain pure this time. You will give Rhaegar an heir won't you Lily?"

"You mean to wed the prince and the girl?" somehow the idea wasn't so surprising, in fact Varys had been expecting it. The Gryffindor girl should make a better queenly figure from what his birds told him about her, "that will anger Dorne your grace."

"Then Dorne shouldn't have given me such a useless cunt to wed my son with," he sneered, "my son needs an heir and for that he needs to remarry. What business is it of theirs?"

He wondered if the girl was as beautiful as her mother, perhaps he would sample her after his son had gotten her with child, he felt himself harden at the thoughts. Varys left him to his dark musings.

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A/N: So it is set in Westeros, and there will be characters of the Harry Potter series appearing as the story progresses, though some without magic and some with special types of magic. I have up to chapter four so far, and let me say, it's been a nightmare and a pleasure to write.

I'm really interested to hear what you think about it.

Please Review.


	2. Dark Stirrings

A/N: It occurs to me that this story is going to be a bucket load of work... normal crossover stories are relatively easy... but I decided to incorporate both worlds together... Why? Why did I do that!? I have enough on my plate already, what with my dissertation to write!

Enjoy~

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The creature kneeling below him had once been a man, but that was a very long time ago when he'd had dreams and ambitions, when all he had wanted was a wife to warm his bed at night and to watch her grow heavy with his child, but that was before the Dark Lord had changed him. Now he was nothing more than a servant, a tool for the Dark Lords pleasure, he called himself the King of the Others, and the Dark Lord was content to let him do so because he was useful. They both knew who was the more powerful of the two, though the King of the Others certainly resented the fact that was the weaker of the two. He sat upon the Throne of Bones and listened to the Other King drone on about his patrol, the new recruits and how the plans were progressing.

The Dark Lord was not handsome, to look upon his face was to look upon a demon, indeed he was like a demon from the deepest reaches of the seven hells, cruel, merciless and intelligent with the darkest of magic surrounding him, he was the epitome of evil. He hated the barren snowy waste land that he was bound to, he hated the Other kneeling before him, hate was an emotion he was very familiar with. But who he hated most of all was a tiny babe with power filled green eyes.

 _But no,_ he mused as he brought a hand up to caress his skeletal face, _she will not be a babe any longer. To think my banishment was because of a baby and a prophecy._

He first heard the words of the prophecy spoken in the Red Temple in Volantis, the High Priest had uttered them with reverence to him. He'd been handsome back then, the ever so dashing and polite Tom Riddle. He sneered at the name. Riddle was a bastard orphan who had risen in the ranks of Volanteen society, men trusted him with their secrets and women lusted after him. Voldemort, however, was his true nature, the monster that played in the shadows and caused men to tremble, they feared to speak his name, to go out after dark with no protection. He was the heir of Slytherin and all feared his wrath, all except for the fool of a Gryffindor and his mudblood wife. Thrice they dared to defy him, thrice.

It still made his blood boil.

The Gryffindor line was magical, they were gifted much like he was in the magical arts, and yet, James had married a woman of low birth. She was unworthy and her blood so dirty. It angered the Dark Lord like nothing else, then the words of prophecy reached his ears and he knew who the child it spoke of was. The birth of Titania Gryffindor had been talked of for weeks, the precious little girl with the greenest eyes and beauty no other child possessed. It sickened him. But he knew the child was the one who could defeat him. It was preposterous to think of, let alone foresee, still the child had to die.

But that was where he miscalculated.

For Lily Gryffindor, though not gifted in the noble art of Old Magic, was talented in Rune Magic, her blood had not been as dirty as he thought. She had created a powerful rune circle around her daughter, sacrificing herself to protect the child, as soon as he approached the crib where the child lay he was trapped. Magic surrounded him, attacking his person and tearing his body apart. He was sent from the house, leaving behind a babe with a scar upon her forehead and smear of black in what had been a perfectly white soul.

His confinement to the wasteland north of the Wall had begun, the magic having cast him as far as it could, and he could not cross the magically enchanted wall for he was not at full power. It was slowly coming back to him though, and he had begun his rise into the world of the creatures inhabiting the wasteland, he told them of the South, of the people and their greed and lusts. Of the soft women and men who thought themselves higher than they were. His words attracted them and they too began to look South once more.

He smiled upon his Throne of Bones, making the Other King pause in fear, the Dark Lord could have rolled his eyes but the action was so mundane and beneath him. He dismissed the Other King, forgoing the usual treatment of torture, the Other King was after all, very useful in his plans to take the Iron Throne.

 _Soon,_ he thought longingly, _I shall trade my bones for iron, though perhaps I shall have the skull of the girl as my crown._

OoO

Titania remembered the day she came upon Winterfell and fell in love with its cold and harsh beauty, she had unceremoniously delivered herself to Lord Rickard and pleaded for amnesty against her abusive aunt and uncle. He had been given no choice but to take her in, she would have been left to fend for herself otherwise, but still he went through every effort to make her feel welcome and loved. She was the child of his greatest friend after all. She looked nothing like the Starks, with their brown hair, blue eyes and harsh northern features. She was a contradiction, born in a land of summer but raised a child of the North, her blood is fire but her magic is ice.

She was the blood of Old Valyria and she had the traditional Valyrian silver hair, though hers had streaks of black within it. Her eyes were what made people keep their distance, she had once heard someone whisper that they were cursed eyes. There were some who claimed they were beautiful and some who claimed she had been gifted, in Volantis the High Priest had told her she had been gifted with Old Magic and her eyes were only a reflection of that power. To her they were just normal. She saw them every day in the looking glass, she was so used to them it took her a moment to think of why people gave her strange looks.

Then there was Draco, her silent protector, a warrior so unlike the knights that Benjen raved about. He was her shadow, he followed her around and even when he was not visible she knew he was watching, but he did not seek to keep her from all evils. ' _You need to make mistakes to learn and grow,'_ he often told her. He protected her from any danger to her life, but was otherwise content to let her make her own choices. He was seven years older than her, an assassin trained from childhood and her companion since she was eight. He had pledged himself to her service when she had stumbled upon him in the Temple of the Lord of Light, under Benerro's insistence that she would be good for him. It was him that took her away from her relatives, hired a ship to sail to Westeros, stole a horse to bring her to Winterfell. His silence came from his lack of the Westerosi language, stating it was _beneath_ him to learn a language so crass when he spoke Valyrian. Titania had learned purely out of necessity, but she agreed with him, compared to poetry of her mother tongue, common certainly left a lot to be desired. Still, even with his silver hair, he did not stand out half so much as her, though he was popular with the ladies.

For the first time since she had been there she was venturing away from Winterfell, accompanied by Draco, Brandon, Benjen and Lyanna Stark, as well as some of Lord Rickard's men, they were to journey to Harrenhal for the tourney that was to take place. She could not say what excited her more, the tourney itself or the meeting of new people, though of course it saddened her that women were not allowed to take part. Lyanna was greatly annoyed by this too. They were rather alike, they were both wild spirits and of the same age, but Lyanna was a wolf and had a place in the North. Titania was no more than an outsider, even after the long years she had spent within the wolf's den.

"Father says you must not use your powers while we are at Harrenhal," Brandon told her, a stern look in her eyes, "you will be noticed and he does not wish for you to draw anymore unnecessary attention to yourself. If you must get up to your antics then do so _discreetly_ and stay away from the royalty."

"Yes sir!" she mockingly bowed to him, though it was rather awkward on horseback, "be a good girl. Don't be my usual mischievous self. Don't plot and scheme with Lyanna."

"When you and my sister join forces even Aegon the Conqueror would tremble in fear," Benjen laughed and shook his head.

"Did you hear that Lyanna?" she called out to the girl.

"We make even legendary figures of history tremble, it is quite the feat to manage is it not?" her eyes held the same twinkle Titania's held, and Brandon was hard pushed not to let himself tremble. He may be heir of Winterfell, but he knew when to yield and run as far as his horse could carry him, his sister and Titania were two women he would run very far from.

"Lord Robert will be in attendance as well, so you best be on your best behaviour too Lyanna," Brandon told his sister, though he said his sister's betrothed's name with distaste. Robert Baratheon would not know the meaning of fidelity if it hit him in the face, he sowed more seeds than a farmer.

"Oh yes Lyanna you must be the courteous lady for a man who fucks anything with a pretty face and hole."

"Titania!" Brandon said in chastisement but the effect was ruined a moment later when he began laughing, "you should be careful, little bird, for you have, as you so delicately put it, a pretty face and hole."

" _He will not touch you,_ " Draco all but hissed, his eyes narrowing upon Brandon. Though he would not speak the common tongue, he understood it perfectly. Brandon shied away from the grey eyes of the fierce protector.

"He'd have an easier time trying to lay with the queen then he would with I," she snorted in distaste and looked away, "he is a cur and I truly feel sorry for you Lyanna."

"Tis father's wish that I marry him," Lyanna sneered, her thoughts on the matter clear for all to see, "no matter how I may loathe the idea, what can I do? Mayhaps I could borrow Draco, I have no doubt he could best the beast that is my betrothed in combat."

"Perhaps," Titania conceded, "if only it was your service he was pledged to." Draco would not harm anyone unless it was in defence of her, it was one of his qualities that she liked the most.

" _Perhaps the Lady Lyanna would like to offer a sweet prize for my services?"_ Draco said giving the girl a smirk and laughing.

"I heard my name," Lyanna glared, "don't be crude."

They said no more on the matter, and broke away from the heavy atmosphere by racing their horses. Firebolt, a pure white stallion that was as wild as she was, was the fastest horse Winterfell had to offer and he was hers. The head of the stables could not tame the stallion, any who tried ended up wounded, but all it had was a glance from Titania and the horse was hers. She had a gift for charming animals, they simply loved her, it was both a blessing and a curse. She gave Bran, Ben and Lyanna a head start but was quick to urge Firebolt forwards and soon she was ahead of them. Laughter taring from her throat as she threw her head back, then she was doing a feat only she could ever manage, she gathered her magic around her and with a show of lithe skill she was stood upon Firebolt's back, her arms outstretched and her face turned up to the sky.

When she first did it her brothers had called out in fright but she knew no harm would come from it, she felt as though she was flying. Her arms reached up as to trace the edge of the blue sky, as though she was a bird and her arms were wings, she loved the feeling of the wind in her hair and loved the freedom she felt from such an act. She slowed Firebolt down with no verbal command, the stallion just _knew_ what she wanted.

They met with the middle Stark child at the Trident, she hadn't seen Ned since she was ten and he had gone off to squire for Lord Arryn, he was taller and stronger now. But he seemed no less stern and the embodiment of all that a Northman was. She greeted him warmly nonetheless but sneered when it came to Robert Baratheon, he was handsome and clearly very strong but he was smug. He had a look that said all women should worship him. He eyed her with interest and she could not believe he would dare whilst his betrothed was next to her. She barely concealed her disgust and repulsion. She looked away as he commented on Lyanna's beauty and asked how she faired, lest she say some scathing remark about the bastard he was rumoured to have fathered at the Vale. Perhaps she should use her magic to find a way to have this betrothal annulled, she could not imagine Lyanna would ever be happy with him, she would have to think on it.

" _I would advise against what you're planning,"_ Draco told her, he had an innate talent for knowing what she was thinking. " _Any use of magic will be seen and it will not do to gain unwanted attentions. We are entering the realm of politics here, Titania, step wisely. Remember what Benerro told you."_

" _I am aware,"_ she responded softly, as if she could ever forget.

"What is that language?" Robert asked her, she said nothing and Draco merely rose an eyebrow in contempt.

"It's High Valyrian," Ned eventually told his friend awkwardly, but with the hard glare Draco sent his way, he uttered nothing more on the matter.

Harrenhal was a monstrosity of that there was no doubt in Titania's mind, it was huge, hulking and an eyesore. It was dark and looked, as the whispers told, haunted. But she would not step foot within its halls but for the feasts to be held in the great hall. She, like everyone in attendance – minus the royalty, – would be sleeping in tents.

Her horse was taken from her, the stable hand had told her that any spare horse would be used as substitute in case any horse fell ill, she pitied the poor fool who tried to ride Firebolt. She would be sharing her tent, and bed, with Lyanna she didn't mind for she had shared a bed with Lyanna before. It was a way to protect themselves from any unwanted visitors, though they would have a guard at the entrance of their tent. She wondered on her own for the most part, the boys were taken up in the events and Bran had to enlist in the tourney. She saw many banners as she walked the camp, some she knew by heart but others took a moment or two for her to remember.

She was perusing a merchant's stall, Draco ever the shadow behind her, when she first got her glimpse of the outside world's view of her abnormal eyes. Any who met her gaze was quick to look away, or stared in disgust and fear. They were a strange green in colour and almost seemed to glow with power, the colours within them swirled to the point that some days they seemed to hold a yellow tint to them and others a blue tint. Her eyes were life.

" _You are the light of R'hllor child, never be ashamed of the life held in your eyes. The night is dark and full of terrors. Your eyes will be of use to you yet in the coming darkness. And you shall face great darkness of that there is no doubt, you will be shunned and jeered at, you will be surrounded by the dark evils. Never forget that you are the light. R'hllor has chosen you. Ice burns just as lethally as fire does. Yes, I see it in you, the child you will bare will be the one."_

Benerro's voice echoed in her head as she moved away from the camp and into the silence of the Godswood, he was the first one to ever compliment her eyes, before then she had remained shut away in her aunt's house. She had snuck out in the dead of night and the light from the Temple of the Lord of Light had attracted her. Benerro had found her, he fed her and told her of the Lord of Light and his apparent connection to her. She wasn't sure what she believed.

"There are too many gods," she decided as she reached the heart tree, "how are we to know which god is false and which is true when there are so many? Was it these old gods who gave me my eyes? Or was it the Seven? The Lord of Light seems the most logical choice, but even then…"

She stood staring at the weirwood tree as if it would give her a verbal reply but it remained quiet.

" _Valar morghulis,_ " she whispered to the tree.

" _Valar dohaeris,"_ Draco whispered behind her.

 _Yes,_ she thought, _because all men must serve and all men must die. Is that the only certainty in this world? Is that what I was created to do? Serve and die?_

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A/N: Contrary to the A/N above, though this story is hard to write, its also very fun... but I do have a dissertation to complete, a ten thousand word extract of a novel, so updates on this story won't be too frequent. On the plus side, I've already written eight thousands words of my dissertation, but need to edit it and stuff.

So what did you think of the chapter? Is it believable? It's hard combining two worlds together, as I said last chapter, it is primarily set in G.R.R. Martin's world so not all Harry Potter characters will appear.

Please Review!


	3. Midnight Meetings

A/N: Another chapter for you guy! Yay! This continues on from the last chapter, in which Titania began to ponder what god was real as questioned if the only certainty in life was death. Morbid I know.

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She was still pondering the many gods when they attended the welcoming feast that night, Draco had disappeared for he was not allowed to attend, it was a merry affair and everyone was laughing, drinking and eating. She sat with the Starks a troubled look on her face that her adopted siblings had seen only a few times before, they knew not to bother her when she was like this. Perhaps what she sought wasn't a god at all, perhaps what she sought was herself. She desired to know who she was, what she would be, what her purpose was beyond prophecies. Questions many people posed to their gods. The only thing she was certain of was death, and wasn't that a curious thought, perhaps she should believe in the only thing that remained certain. Death should be her god. Like the God of the assassins of many faces.

" _Valar morghulis,_ " she said suddenly, repeating her earlier words as her eyes came back into focus and she took in the sight before her.

"What does that mean? Is it Valyrian?" Benjen asked eagerly, they all knew she came from Volantis, but her use of her mother tongue was only spoken in the presence of Draco. She noticed she had the attention from her other adopted siblings as well.

" _Valar morghulis_ ," she repeated a little louder, "all men must die."

Everyone she was looking at, her siblings, the king, the crown prince, every child, woman and man, all these lords and ladies, would die. _Valar morghulis_ indeed.

"That's morbid," Lyanna crinkled her nose, "the first words of Valyrian that you translate for us and it's _all men must die_. I thought it would be something a little more exciting."

"What would you have me say?" she asked amusedly, "beside I think it best not to be giving lessons in my mother tongue so publically."

"Then just tell me one thing," Lyanna pleaded, "something less morbid than men dying."

"Ziry zokla," she responded with ease, "it means she wolf. Though it also means he wolf, Valyrian is a gender neutral language. Keep it to yourself though and don't let anyone around here catch you saying it."

Lyanna whispered the words under her breath and smiled, glad that her friend and sister was being more open about her home, though she was curious as to why. "What has brought this talk on?"

"I was wondering," she tilted her head to the side, "why we worship gods and why there are so many. Westerosi have the old gods and the Seven. In Essos men worship the Lord of Light or the Many-Faced God. So many gods it is hard to keep track."

"Who do you worship?" Eddard asked, it was common knowledge she did not worship the old gods.

"I suppose if I am forced to choose then I choose the Red God, he is the god of my homeland, or perhaps it is because the first man who was kind to me was the High Priest of the Temple of Light in Volantis. Benerro was the first one to tell me that I am not cursed, though I don't quite believe I am the child of R'hllor. Personally I think the gods are cruel and fickle."

"All this talk of gods is dull," Robert slurred, he'd been talking to some pretty serving maid before he seemed to remember his betrothed and stumbled over.

"It is not the gods that are dull," Lyanna muttered under her breath and Titania snorted in amusement at the insult.

A hushed silence fell around the room as the crown prince took centre stage, a silver harp in his hands, he played a few notes on it before his fingers plucked at the delicate stings to create a melody. He was beautiful – a strange feat for a man – with the silver hair that she herself possessed only his was a pure silver that fell to his shoulders, he had sad purple eyes that could reach into your very soul. Purple eyes she would have had had she not inherited her mother's green. He was tall and strong and held himself with a grace many sought and failed to achieve. When he opened his mouth to sing, he sang of a maiden who lost her love, a melancholic song that pulled at her heartstrings. Her eyes, like many of the ladies around her, grew moist with the sorrow he managed to emit in his playing. He was a skilled singer and played the harp with such love that it was clear he had spent a long time learning how to play.

"It seems our sisters are girls after all," Brandon teased as he saw the tears, "they have fallen under the spell of the crown prince, like all women."

"I'll show you a spell," Titania muttered harmlessly, while Lyanna poured her cup of wine over her brother's hair. She stormed out of the room while Titania was left to hide her laughter behind the sleeve of her dress. Brandon chased after her. "To think he was worried about me making a scene."

"There is time yet," Benjen grinned at her, "I'm sure you will find some way to leave a mark on this tourney."

"You know me so well," she laughed this time.

"He's watching you," Ned muttered quietly at her side.

"Who?" she asked as she looked up and she found herself exhaling softly as she met the purple gaze of the crown prince. He was indeed watching her like a hawk. His eyes widening slightly as he realised he had been caught, but instead of the distrust and disgust that was usually present when people saw her strange eyes, she saw only curiosity and intrigue. She looked away, confused at his reaction to her and politely excused herself from her brothers.

She wasn't aware that she was followed out of the hall, had she known she would've been she would've asked her brothers to escort her back to her tent, but it wasn't until she was grabbed and pushed against a wall that she realised. She cried out as the stones dug painfully into her skin, her mind trying to make sense of what was happening. She only began to struggle when she felt something hard pressing into her belly and the stench of sweat and ale reached her nose.

"You're so pretty," the slurred voice of Robert Baratheon whispered in her ear and she cringed in utter revulsion. "I've never seen a woman like you before," she went to punch him but he grabbed her hand with a careless chuckle, "I've heard what they say about you. They say you're cursed," his hand slipped under her skirts, "I've never been with a cursed woman before."

"Get off me," she snarled, twisting and turning, uncaring how the sharp rocks cut into her as long as she could get him off of her. "You're drunk and you're to wed my sister," she cried, if he didn't release her soon she would use her magic. Unwilling to reveal her magic or not, it always protected her. She opened her mouth to scream but he covered it with his hand, laughing as though it was a game to him, she could feel her magic rise within her. She glared at him, her eyes glowing ominously with power until her magic settled down within her, she panicked then. Her eyes going wide and wild as she bucked and squirmed, trying desperately to call her magic to the surface. _Draco,_ she thought desperately, _Draco!_ She almost screamed the name of her protector out loud when a voice cut across them.

"I believe the lady told you to get off," the voice was sharp and the authority behind it was clear, but it was not spoken in Valyrian. It was not Draco who had come to her aid.

"She's just playing," Robert laughed again but didn't move away from her.

"Your advances are unwelcome, leave Baratheon before I'm forced to bring you before my father," the threat and anger was clearly shown and this time Robert turned to face the intruder.

"Your grace," he stammered backing away from Titania quickly, and rambling an apology of some sort. "She came on to me, I swear it," he said finally, "said how she was jealous of my betrothal to her sister. Said she should be the Stark I wed not Lady Lyanna."

She breathed deeply, she had fallen to her knees the moment he had released her, her eyes still wide and in shock but anger was quickly replacing her shock. She rose to her feet, her heart finally calm as she steeled her resolve, her hands clenched. "Shows how much you know," she sneered hatefully, angered that Draco had not helped her though he would be watching, "I am not a Stark, I'm a Gryffindor, you pompous buffoon. I would not desire to wed you even if you were the last man in all of Westeros. _And I will be dead before I see Lyanna wed to you. Bastard!"_ she finished, slipping into her mother tongue in her anger.

Robert didn't seem to know what to do with himself and under the power of her resolve he crumbled. He had thought her silver-black hair was strange, but Ned had introduced her as his sister, not of this House Gryffindor. The prince glared at him, a murderous look in his eyes and he knew he would find no mercy from the usually kind prince. He took a step back, excusing himself with a mumble of slurred words, he could only hope that the memory of tonight would fade into nothing.

"Forgive me my lady," Prince Rhaegar said once Robert was out of sight, "I had noticed he followed you out of the hall, I should have stopped him. Ale and male bravado often do not mix."

"There isn't anything to forgive," she mumbled feeling shy under his piercing gaze, "you're not the one who tried to force yourself on me, your grace. I should've asked Ned to accompany me back to my tent." _The night is dark and full of terrors, R'hllor has certainly proved that much to me tonight._

"Then allow me to accompany you in his stead," he held his arm out to her a charming smile on his lips, "Ser Arthur and I shall not allow any more harm to befall you."

"Certainly not," Ser Arthur said stepping forwards from where he had stood behind his friend, "we can't resist a damsel in distress. It's all for selfish reasons of course, it bolsters our male ego to escort a pretty lady."

Her mouth opened and closed a few times as if she unsure what to make of the white cloaked man, she frowned, her lips pursed slightly before she smiled, "you're very strange." She settled with strange because she honestly didn't know what to make of him.

"You wouldn't be the first to think that my lady," Prince Rhaegar told her with a smile as Ser Arthur protested. "Shall we?" he held his arm out to her and, with only a brief pause of hesitation, she took it. "I have yet to learn the name of the beautiful young maiden I saved, would you do me the honour of telling me?"

"Titania," she told him cautiously, remembering Bran's words to stay away from royalty, "of House Gryffindor."

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with that house," he confessed curiously.

"You wouldn't be," she responded with a shrug, clearly not willing to say more on the matter.

Rhaegar was pleasantly surprised, since his wife's barren status had become public knowledge, he had women flocking to him and eager to tell him of their ancestry and power. Take Cersei Lannister, she was forever dangling her name in front of him, but he wasn't interested in the girl or her father's power. He knew by the silver in her hair that she was of Valyrian decent, certainly her slip into High Valyrian was proof of that, and yet his father's envoy to Volantis was unsuccessful when searching for a noble lady for him to marry when he came of age. Was she from Volantis? He wanted to ask but he didn't want to appear rude.

"Is House Gryffindor from Essos then?" Arthur asked and Rhaegar was grateful for his friend's insight.

"House Gryffindor's ancestral home was Valyria," she told him, "after the Doom my ancestors have lived in Volantis. But that's not the reason you haven't heard of my house. I'm the last Gryffindor. My parents were murdered when I was a babe and my maternal aunt left a lot to be desired. I'm a ward of the Starks now. It's a shame really that a house as old as mine will die with me."

"Do you not plan on being married? Having children?" Rhaegar asked gently wondering if he was encroaching on a touchy subject.

"Oh I'd like to," she responded with a hint of longing, "I love children and I've always wanted a family of my own. But people avoid me because of my eyes, they say I am cursed, but I don't think I am. The high priest at the Temple told me they are a gift from the Lord of Light, he also said I would be the mother of a very important child. So I guess someday I will have a child."

"Did he tell you the name of the child?" Rhaegar asked suddenly feeling light headed. _The dragon must have three heads,_ he thought eagerly, _she has fire and ice within her. A woman born of fire but raised in ice. A song of ice and fire._

"I can't remember, is it important?" she asked curiously, green eyes narrowed, "you have a child don't you your grace?"

"I do," he nodded a fond smile forming on his face and a twinkle appeared in his eye, "a girl, Rhaenys, she is a year old."

"And she has her daddy wrapped around her little finger," Titania laughed and smiled at the prince, "I think you are a great father."

"How would you know that?" he asked, watching as a heartache welled up within her eyes.

"Because whenever I picture my father, he has the same look upon his face as you just did," she tells him, her voice soft and quiet, "do you want more children?"

"At least two more," he told her giving her a piercing look that she did not want to understand.

"I'm sure, should you marry again, your new wife would be more than happy to give Princess Rhaenys siblings," she could imagine three silver haired children running about, laughing and playing, and Rhaegar happily chasing after them. It made her wonder about her own father, would he have played games with her?

"My second and third child," he responded with a fire in his eyes and longing in his voice, his tone huskier than before as he contemplated her.

They arrived at Titania's tent where Draco and Brandon were waiting, the latter of the two told her off for wondering off alone and thanked the prince for escorting her, though his tone was a lot icier when addressing the prince. Draco remained ever the silent presence, though he caught her eye and she read the apology within them. She nodded to him and smiled, accepting the unspoken apology as she always would.

"I wish you very good night my lady," he grabbed her hand, stroking his thumb across the pale skin with tender care before raising it and pressing his lips against it. He lingered far longer than appropriate and his darkened eyes bore into her own as if to plead with her. What he was pleading for she did not know. Behind her she heard a snarl and knew Draco found the prince's behaviour to be less than gallant.

"Goodnight, your grace," she responded unsurely, stepping away from him watching as he sighed.

"Will you be watching the joust my lady?" he asked her suddenly as though unwilling to let her go.

"Brandon will be enlisting so I suppose I shall have to," she smiled, "why do you ask?"

"I am to participate, I just wondered if you would watch," he smiled in return hoping that Brandon wouldn't be the only one she watched. He nodded to her, Draco and her brother and began to walk away but hesitated at her voice.

"Oh, your grace," she called suddenly as if remembering something, but her eyes were narrowed and eerily perceptive, as though she were challenging him. "The name of child, I just remembered, it was something to do with Azor Ahai. Though I don't think I'd name my child that in all honesty."

Her nose crinkled in an adoring fashion and she left Rhaegar standing there in favour of her bed. The prince did not move for a long time, his eyes wide and a wildness to them as he connected what she had said to what he already knew. _The dragon must have three heads,_ he thought, _she is to be the mother of Azor Ahai, the prince that was promised. She's just a girl, a tiny thing,_ he thought trying to convince himself he should not bother himself with such a young girl. But even as her age bothered him he felt desire pooling in his stomach.

"Who is Azor Ahai?" Arthur finally asked.

"He is the prince that was promised," Rhaegar admitted and suddenly he knew he would have Titania as his bride. Saying it out loud had made it real. He swallowed thickly and tried to will his arousal away, but he could not, not when the girl was so pretty and definitely not when she practically admitted that she would have his heir. Though she didn't know what she was truly admitting to.

"Then you will…" Arthur trailed off, his gaze slipping to the tent Titania had slipped into, "will you tell her the truth?"

"I do not know, she's just a girl and I don't want to fill her head with ideals and fantasies."

"For all her innocence," Arthur said finally looking at his best friend, "she seems to know a lot about the cruelty of the world. I doubt she would fill her head with delusions of grandeur."

"What do you mean?" his brow furrowed in confusion as he turned away from the tent and began to make his way back to the chambers he was given.

"Her eyes, they hold a haunted look beyond their strangeness, she said she was the last one of her house and from Volantis at that. How did she get here? With the Starks no less? Did you see her blonde companion? There was a familiarity between the two, something beyond that of friendship. There is a lot of distance between Winterfell and Volantis. I just wonder what she has suffered is all."

Rhaegar hadn't considered that, he'd been too caught up in the prophecy, of dragons and promised princes. "I shall have to take that into consideration," he told Arthur thoughtfully. He clearly saw the difference between a standard knight and a Kingsguard, his friend had seen the smallest of detail and he hadn't. He wondered at the blonde that had been present and began to question just what his relationship was with Titania. The thoughts of anything romantic between them unsettled him so much that he had to walk away, lest he do something to damage what bond he could create with the girl.

* * *

A/N: So... a lot of information given there, and if you are wondering just why Titania told him some of her history and of Benerro's words, well it wasn't to move plot forwards, nor to create a mary-sueish connection between Rhaegar and Titania. It has been done that way for a reason. (If any of you figure it out I will do a Rhaegar/femHarry one shot as a congratulatory gift.) Rest assured, romance between the two won't come until much later.

I like Arthur... I don't why, but I do.

Please review!


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